


im king of the night (wearin’ your shirt)

by dreamtowns



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (not really tho), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe – No Prophecy (Fantasy XV), Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Mild Language, Relationship Reveal, Secret Relationship, alternate universe – office
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 12:04:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20045725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamtowns/pseuds/dreamtowns
Summary: In Noctis’ defense, it’s not like he meant to keep it a secret that he was married. It’s just that no one bothered to ask. Except for Luna—because unlike his other coworkers, Luna wasn’t an asshole. And Luna wasn’t even a coworker.





	im king of the night (wearin’ your shirt)

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Final Fantasy XV. All rights reserved to its developers: Square Enix. All that is mine is the plot of this story in particular and any original characters introduced. No copyright infringement intended. No money is being made from this work. This is purely for entertainment purposes.
> 
> Sorry for any spelling/grammar errors!
> 
> So I watched shirobako while I wrote this, and while I meant to have Noctis and his coworkers be in an office setting, they ended up working in animation production. Oops.

Noctis realizes something’s wrong when Gladio invites him out for a drink with some coworkers (okay, well, _that _part isn’t what wrong because Gladio’s known around the office for being a friendly busybody, and he likes to make sure all the “fresh meat” are comfortable in their work environment), and when Noctis shows up at the place and is led to the table by the hostess, there’s a woman who definitely doesn’t work with either the animation team or the production team at _Insomnia’s Animation Studio_ sitting there.

For one, she’s far too pretty to look like she belongs with the likes of Noctis’ coworkers, who he fondly says are some level of weird.

“Um,” he says to the hostess, quietly because, fuck, he doesn’t want to embarrass anyone. “Is this the right table? I thought there was . . . a group?”

The hostess, bless her heart, pats his shoulder. “They all canceled except for you, sir. And your date, there. Now—a server will be with you shortly.”

What.

Noctis takes his seat, numb and just in utter shock. His “date” stares at him and says, wholly unimpressed, “While you’re quite pretty, I’m not interested in men, so let’s get that clear.”

Noctis instantly relaxes. “Oh, thank gods, because I am.”

She quirks an eyebrow, and her smile is much, much softer now. “I’m Lunafreya—but, please, call me Luna.”

“Noctis.”

Their server appears with a bright smile and a suggestion for appetizers. Noctis says _fuck it_ and orders some cheese sticks, because if he’s going to go through with this then he’s going to clog up his arteries. Prompto will give him hell for it once he comes home, but that’s fine. Luna orders a plate of onion rings, with extra sauce, and that’s how Noctis knows he’s going to be having a good fucking time.

“So . . . do you work at Insomnia?” Noctis asks once the server leaves and threads his hands under his chin. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around—but, then again, I just started working at the company.”

“I’m actually a voice actor,” Luna explains, and Noctis perks up in interest. His uncle is one of those. “And I have a loose contract with Insomnia—I get to have, ah, first dibs, you could say, on some of the works produced. And you, Noctis?”

“Call me Noct,” Noctis replies as he gets comfortable. “And I’m one of the, um, key animators.”

“3D or pencil?”

“Pencil.”

Luna makes a delighted noise and leans forward. In a conspiratory tone, she says, “Don’t say this, but I have a slight crush on one of your coworkers.”

Noctis raises an eyebrow, and a slight smile curls on his lips. “Who?”

They’re interrupted by their appetizers, and Noctis gets reminded that _hey _there’s a menu to browse. He sees the option for seafood, and immediately orders the surf and turf. He’s tempted to tell them to leave the vegetables, but he’s not in the mood to make anyone’s life too difficult. Luna orders a dish with a name that wraps around Noctis’ tongue.

His phone buzzes with a message as they fall silent, digging into their respective appetizers. It’s from Prompto, a cute gif of an animated Chocobo sending a kiss to the screen. Hearts float across the screen.

_How’s my baby doing?_

Noctis smiles. _Good. So, apparently, my coworkers think im single and they set me up on a date, but it’s cool because luna’s actually gay lol so we’re chillin_

Prompto replies with a meme; some rat puppet-thing that’s from a children’s restaurant looking to the side of the camera. _LMAO that’s so fucking funny. Is she cute tho that’s the important question_

_She’s outta both our leagues_

_im SHOOK. _Prompto then adds two paragraphs worth of an emoji blowing a kiss. _Anyway break time is OVER [crying emoji]. pray for me im abt to head into ICU. _

_Good luck!_

When Noctis is pulled away from the daze he always falls into whenever Prompto is involved, Luna is smiling at him with a soft look in her eyes. She takes a sip of her wine and says, “Boyfriend, I take it?”

“Husband, actually,” Noctis smiles and raises his hand so she can see the ring on his right hand, instead of his left, and Luna blinks.

“Oh, are you and your husband from Niflheim? I believe wearing your wedding band on the right hand is a Niflheim custom.”

“My husband is,” Noctis nods. “He emigrated to Lucis sometime around high school.”

“Lovely, I’m from Tenebrae,” Luna offers, and then says, in a teasing manner, “I take it, you’re Lucian bred and born?”

Noctis laughs. “You know it.”

The rest of their dinner goes remarkably well. Luna regales him with failed voice auditions, and Noctis discusses the utter chaos that their director, a man named Ardyn Izunia, puts them through with his daily existential crisis and procrastination. Before he knows it, their plates are scraped clean from food, and they’re splitting the bill.

Luna plugs in her contact info the moment they step outside of the restaurant. “I would love to meet Prompto—we should have brunch over the weekend.”

Noctis agrees. He thinks they’re going to get along like a house on fire. Because it’s dark, Noctis walks Luna back to her car and wishes her a goodnight. When he climbs into his own, there are unread messages from the group chat his coworkers dragged him into only a few short hours after he first begun work at Insomnia.

> #single-ladies
> 
> **glaadio: **ok
> 
> **glaadio: **how was dinner prince charmless
> 
> **noct noct joke: **[angry emoji] why did yall ditch me
> 
> **its nyx bitch: **oops
> 
> **its nyx bitch: **did it not go well?
> 
> **noct noct joke: **no it went fine ig
> 
> **noct noct joke: **luna n i are getting brunch n none of u are invited
> 
> **glaadio: **[clap emoji][clap emoji][clap emoji]
> 
> **iggy wiggy: **I can smell the nuptials already
> 
> **noct noct joke: **What.

Noctis snorts at their antics before he tosses his phone onto the passenger seat and pulls out of the parking lot. There are no lights in the house when he enters, but that’s normal considering Prompto has back-to-back surgeries for the next two hours. His baby was the best surgeon in the city, and Noctis will never stop being proud.

He refills Pryna’s water and food bowl and makes himself comfortable in the living room. His various folders and assignments are piled atop the coffee table, and Noctis gets to work once he flicks on the TV. It turns to a rerun of some cartoon from his childhood. He should probably go to sleep, since he has to get back to the office tomorrow around eight—there’s a staff meeting, and if Ardyn tries to fuck with them and say he wants another scene redone (“But with _passion_ this time, my dears, it is all about the _expression_—”), Noctis is going to commit murder and then go to prison for the rest of his life—but he has a few assignments from other companies to work on, and the last thing Noctis wants is to have to do key frames over the weekend.

By the time Prompto returns from his shift at the hospital, it’s almost two in the morning. Noctis’ fingers are stained with pencil lead and eraser marks, and he’s partly falling asleep on a key frame of some girl brushing her teeth in the middle of an apocalyptic background. It depicts an emotion Noctis can definitely relate to.

“Aww, did my baby stay up for me?”

Noctis hums and greets Prompto with a kiss. Pryna shakes herself awake from where she’s comfortable on Noctis’ lap, and curls around Prompto’s ankle. She rubs her head on his thigh and purrs like a small motor. Prompto obligingly answers her request and pets her once he breaks the kiss.

“Missed you,” Noctis murmurs, a soft smile breaking over his face. “Was quiet.”

Prompto, though undoubtedly exhausted, smiles. It looks like a sunrise, to Noctis. “Same here—gods, today was so hectic, but my team and I made it . . . and I have the day off tomorrow.”

Noctis pouts. “Lucky you.”

Prompto snickers and kisses the pout away. “Don’t worry,” his husband says, “I’ll take plenty pictures of Pryna for you.”

Playfully, Noctis bites Prompto’s shoulder, and laughs at the squawk it caused. He then kisses it better and says, “Let’s get ready for bed, kay?”

Prompto smiles against the crown of Noctis’ forehead. “You just want to see me naked.”

“Obviously.”

* * *

“So.”

Noctis blinks from his drawing pad with a quirked eyebrow. Gladio’s leaning over his cubicle—it’s not really a cubicle, in the traditional sense, but Noctis honestly doesn’t know what to call it so a cubicle it is—with a cup of coffee in his hands, grin wide on his lips. Noctis tries not to fiddle with the scarf wrapped around his neck—Prompto decided he wanted to become a vampire last night.

“Need something?” Noctis asks, taking the break for what it is. He’s been trying to work on key frames of the main characters’ pet—a weirdly shaped cat who talks only in poetry stanzas—but he isn’t getting the shape of its’ paws to the consistency he wants it to be.

“Just heard from the grape vine that your night ended . . . well.”

Noctis blinks, again. “What?”

In the cubicle next to him, Crowe rolls her eyes. “He’s talking about the scarf, Argentum—you’re not fooling anyone in believing you don’t have a hickey.”

Noctis turns scarlet red.

“So . . . come on, you know I need gossip to fuel my life—,” Gladio begins but Noctis just cuts him off with a short, “Yeah, these didn’t come from Luna.”

Crowe’s eyebrows raise to her hairline. Gladio blinks as if Noctis had said he’d outright _eloped_ with Luna, and his statement causes everyone in the aisle to turn in his direction.

“Then who gave it to you?” Iris demands as she tempts fate, leaning so far back in her chair Noctis is just waiting for the trip to the ER.

“Prompto,” Noctis replies blithely and, slowly, an idea forms in his mind. Prompto’s going to bust a lung when he informs him during lunch.

“Okay, then,” Gladio starts slowly, “Who’s Prompto?”

Pelna, the main production desk for the show they’re all knee-deep in, drifts by, making a beeline for the cubicle on the other side of Noctis. “Name sounds familiar—hey, asshole, you done with those key frames yet?”

“By the Gods, it’ll get done when it’s done,” barks Luche. “Now, shut the fuck up—whose Prompto? Met her at a bar or something?”

_Is everyone in the office listening? _

Noctis channels Luna and gives them unimpressed stares. “I don’t know what I did to make you all assume I’m straight, but, please, let me know right the fuck now so I can fix it.”

Laughter floats from all ends of the room, as did apologies. “Shit, man.” Gladio looks suitably guilty and cowed. “I’m so sorry.”

Noctis waves it away. “S’fine.”

Iris leans on her chair more, a positively wicked grin on her lips. “So, how’d you and Prompto meet?”

“Hmm . . . in high school,” Noctis explains as he sharpens his pencil. “He was a part of a student exchange program at my school, and we just, you know, hit it off and everything.”

There are a lot of cooing noises, but the elevator dings and Ignis steps out. He’s frowning at all of them. “What’s going on?”

That’s all Noctis needs to get back to work. He’s only been here for less than a year, and while he feels comfortable around everyone, he’s not in the mood to get scribbled on someone’s shit list. Especially not Ignis’, seeing as how higher up the guy is on the company hierarchy.

But Gladio’s not done just yet. There’s a gleam in his eyes—the gleam that got Noctis on a blind date with Luna—when he asks, casual, “So how long have you and Prompto been . . . doing whatever you’re doing?”

“Some years, I guess,” Noctis replies in a faux absentminded manner. “Anyway, I finished those key frames for Episode Two if you want to take them.”

Gladio takes the offered folder with a bright smile. Ignis talks about something in low tones with Monica, the episode director for the Final Episode of the Season, and everyone, more or less, goes back to their duties. Noctis unknots the tension in his back, fixes his grip on his pencil, and goes back to kitty paws.

* * *

Predictably, Prompto howls in laughter when Noctis talks about his utterly genius idea. “Stop it, stop it,” Prompto wheezes from the other end; phone cluttering to the ground as he wheezes, and Noctis can only see the freckles dotting his elbow. “You’re killing me here, baby—you’re killing your husband.”

Noctis snickers as he pops a sausage in his mouth. “You were just telling me a few days earlier that you needed some excitement in your life, no?”

“Your poor coworkers,” Prompto says, but then his sympathetic tone is swallowed by another round of cackles. Noctis raises his eyes to the sky. “Okay, I’ll bite—what do I get out of it, though?”

“Dunno,” says Noctis. “Entertainment?”

“Well, can’t say no to that.”

Noctis is on the roof of the building, spending his lunch break surrounded by the calm wind and serene atmosphere. Well, somewhat serene what with the noises from cars and other people. His lunch is on his lap, and Prompto’s beautiful, smiling face is on his phone, and—well, there’s little places Noctis would rather be right now.

“How’d you sleep, though?” Noctis asks once he’s swallowed a good third of his food. “Rest well and everything?”

“Yup, yup!” Prompto then lifts Pryna to the camera. “Our baby took so many naps with me.”

Noctis pouts. “I’m jealous.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll cuddle her for you.”

For the rest of his lunch break, he spends on the phone with Prompto. At some point, Prompto starts talking about the holiday party his floor puts on, but, well, that’s old news, honestly; and Noctis talks about some of the independent work he’s done so far—nothing too serious, really, but he is thinking about, maybe, hypothetically, publishing a few chapters—and, before Noctis knows, his lunch break dwindles to an end, and he has to say goodbye.

“See you at home,” Noctis promises as he wraps up his trash. “And no complaints—but I’m making fish.”

Prompto scrunches up his nose. “But fish breath is _gross_.”

“Guess you’ll have to down some mints, then.”

“I’m getting a divorce!”

Noctis laughs and says, teasingly, “A bit too late for that.”

Prompto huffs, but his smile ruins his indignant visage. “See you later, baby—love you.”

“Love you too,” Noctis says, smiling soft and bright. His phone darkens a few seconds after Prompto blows him a kiss, and he sighs. The world always seems a little darker, a little quieter, when he isn’t talking to Prompto.

Half the building is devoid of life when he reenters, but that’s normal—everyone’s always running around in animation production, akin to headless chickens. Iris is jamming out with her headphones on, sketching some character profiles, and Crowe spares him a brief smile before she hunches back over her sketches.

Noctis takes his seat with a sigh. Home has never felt more distant than now.

* * *

Now that his coworkers know of Prompto—sort of—it’s like a wall Noctis hadn’t known was up breaks, because he’s much more comfortable and relaxed in the office. And all he really talks about is Prompto—about the way his hair looks in the morning sun, about how he constantly buys Pryna toys, about how he can cook a five-star dessert yet burn an omelet in four seconds, about how he’s just so _beautiful _and _kind_ and did you know that he’s a surgeon? Because he’s a surgeon, and—

The world would end, and Noctis would still have an arsenal of things to talk about if it involved Prompto.

It’s easy to see that his coworkers are convinced that Noctis and Prompto are pining, and that they’ve been in love with one another since high school—because Prompto makes Noctis lunch and leaves adorable notes buried everywhere in Noctis’ bag and clothes for him to find, and because Prompto knits Noctis his scarfs, and his gloves, and his sweaters; because Iris overheard a conversation between Noctis and Prompto (his headphone broke, sadly) and listened to Prompto call Noctis tooth-rotting nicknames for their entire conversation while Noctis hadn’t even batted an eye—but no one even thinks to ask if they’re in a relationship. They just assume he and Prompto are fuck buddies.

Hopelessly in love fuck buddies, but still.

_Still_.

So when Noctis discovers that there’s a _betting pool_, he’s not really surprised. Impressed that they’ve kept it hidden for a good three months, but not surprised at all. His entertainment is dwindling, now, and it’s kind of getting annoying by all their attempts at getting him to “confess” to Prompto.

Nyx from sound informs him about it (because Nyx is a _bro_), all smug smiles and carefully hidden amusement, and for a good few seconds, Noctis honestly thinks the man is pulling his leg. But then he creeps into one of the conference rooms they don’t really use as often, sees most of his coworkers crammed in there with snacks and drinks, Ignis by the whiteboard (and, gods, does his jaw almost drop) with a dark green marker.

He steals a bag of chips and says, nonchalantly, “Put me down for they’ve been married for almost seven years, and everyone in this office just needs to learn how to ask questions.”

“Wait,” Iris demands, “what do you mean _you’re married?”_

Noctis swallows some chips first, and then raises his hand.

“But that’s on your right hand,” someone—Noctis thinks his name is Libertus—protests, and Noctis rolls his eyes so hard, they nearly fall out of his head.

“You think every country puts their wedding ring on their left hand?” Noctis huffs. “Prom’s from Niflheim, and they wear the band on their right.”

Iris squints at her phone. “He’s right.”

Noctis sticks his tongue out at her. “Anyway—is there any winners?”

“Nyx is,” declares Ignis, and there’s groans abound in the room along with various grumbles. “He’s the only one who surmised you were already in a relationship with Prompto.”

“I should hope so,” says Noctis. “Since he was my best man and all.”

It brings about another wave of cries from his coworkers, and Noctis honestly doesn’t bother holding back his laughter.

_Gods_, he thinks, _wait ‘till Prompto hears about this._

**Author's Note:**

> It's a little rushed, but I hope y'all enjoyed it!


End file.
